Mad1
06-24-2007, 07:18 AM
This is a story by one of my favorite former co-workers at the Tennessean. Leon can put you right in the middle of something with just his words.
Jeremy
Mad1
Sunday, 06/24/07
Fun took fatal turn in 4.84 seconds
Engine's roar at Selmer parade gave way to cries of terror
By LEON ALLIGOOD | Staff Writer
SELMER, Tenn. — Troy Critchley maneuvered his car to the starting line as the sun was beginning to melt on the horizon.
"The Jackhammer," 18 feet from nose to rear, with its 2,000-plus-horsepower engine, had been Critchley's ride on the professional drag-racing circuit for a couple of years. Capable of reaching 200 miles per hour on a quarter-mile run, it had been good to Critchley.
But this was not Houston or Huntsville or any of the dozens of other drag strips where the 36-year-old has competed and won. This was Selmer, a West Tennessee town of 4,600 where thousands had gathered on this 95-degree day for the annual Cars for Kids charity car show.
Stretching before Critchley, through the vibrating windshield, was Mulberry Avenue, where the speed limit is 30 miles per hour.
Before him were six young people whose lives were about to end. Before him were 23 men, women and children who were about to be injured. Before him were thousands of spectators, many of whom would be left wondering why their little town took such a big chance on this, in hindsight, obviously dangerous event.
The show's finale every year is a "parade" of burnouts where drivers, many of them local hot rodders, get to show off their muscle cars. By braking while revving their engines, they make the rear wheels spin, tinting the air with the smell of smoldering rubber.
At a drag strip, drivers do it to warm up their tires so the rubber becomes tacky, the better to grip the strip's surface when the light turns green.
What the crowd in Selmer expected on the evening of June 16 was revving engines and squealing tires. This was the spectacle the Cars for Kids burnout had offered in previous years.
Critchley, a lean Australian who has lived in the United States since the late 1990s, and another pro driver were to be the showstoppers of the finale.
At the starting line, the Aussie reacted to the "go" signal. Almost immediately it became obvious something had gone awry.
For whatever reason — simple human error, mechanical malfunction, or a misguided decision to push the limits, that remains to be determined by authorities — the souped-up 1993 Corvette became a rocket on wheels.
First, there was the howl of the supercharged engine.
Then a collective cry of terror as the car veered off-center.
Then bedlam.
The tragedy unfolded in 4.84 seconds.
Some saw the car coming and got out of the way.
Some were spared death or injury by sheer luck.
But others never had a chance.
Watch for the hands
As the time approached six o'clock on June 16, another successful Cars for Kids event was nearing the finale.
Founder, president and event organizer Larry Price stood at the end of the burnout section to give the signal, a wave of his hands, for drivers to power down.
Price said he told Critchley: "I wave my hands and you're out."
Eyewitnesses said Price did wave his hands, but The Jackhammer shot past him, trailing white smoke.
According to a statement from Critchley's racing team, the driver "did everything humanly possible to keep the car on the road, but unfortunately, there was nothing he could do."
By the time the barrel-chested Price turned around to follow the car's path, the high-performance vehicle veered to the left, into the crowd.
Sonic was gathering spot
Teenagers and twenty-somethings especially liked the burnouts. They clustered in groups all along the street, but the Sonic was a popular gathering spot because it offered an unobstructed view. Plus, if you got hungry, you just placed an order.
Aeriel Hickman, 15, was at the restaurant with two of her friends.
Sisters Raven and Nicole Griswell, 15 and 18, respectively, were there with Nicole's fiance, Christopher Mettlen, 19. The engaged couple had not yet settled on a marriage date.
Sean Driskill, 22, who stocked shelves at the Wal-Mart Supercenter at the south end of town, watched the show with his wife, Amy, 19.
Kimberly Barfield, 17, and Selina Kennedy, 16, were Sonic employees. They hustled out the drive-in's fare — burgers and fries, shakes and cherry limeades — to customers. At 6 p.m. they stood near the street talking with friends.
There were dozens of others in this drive-in tableau: Teenagers gabbing on their cell phones, young adults talking.
Brooke Pope, 20, home for the summer from Blue Mountain College, was in the crowd, flashing that toothy smile of hers.
Scarlett Replogle, 15, remembered as pretty and polite, chatted with friends.
Shane Smith, 19, stood near the street with his father, Michael Smith, 43, and his stepbrother, 20, also named Michael, but known as Mikey in the family.
For Shane, it was his first day in Selmer. He was moving there to live with his father and stepmother, Teresa Smith. Teresa was there, too, with her sister and daughter, though not alongside the street. Teresa's sister had had an ankle injury, and right before the burnouts were to begin the three ladies were resting on a bench about 40 feet away.
Rodger Pitchford, 18, stood as close to the street as he could, eagerly taking in the parade of souped-up cars.
STORY CONTINUES IN SECOND POST
Jeremy
Mad1
Sunday, 06/24/07
Fun took fatal turn in 4.84 seconds
Engine's roar at Selmer parade gave way to cries of terror
By LEON ALLIGOOD | Staff Writer
SELMER, Tenn. — Troy Critchley maneuvered his car to the starting line as the sun was beginning to melt on the horizon.
"The Jackhammer," 18 feet from nose to rear, with its 2,000-plus-horsepower engine, had been Critchley's ride on the professional drag-racing circuit for a couple of years. Capable of reaching 200 miles per hour on a quarter-mile run, it had been good to Critchley.
But this was not Houston or Huntsville or any of the dozens of other drag strips where the 36-year-old has competed and won. This was Selmer, a West Tennessee town of 4,600 where thousands had gathered on this 95-degree day for the annual Cars for Kids charity car show.
Stretching before Critchley, through the vibrating windshield, was Mulberry Avenue, where the speed limit is 30 miles per hour.
Before him were six young people whose lives were about to end. Before him were 23 men, women and children who were about to be injured. Before him were thousands of spectators, many of whom would be left wondering why their little town took such a big chance on this, in hindsight, obviously dangerous event.
The show's finale every year is a "parade" of burnouts where drivers, many of them local hot rodders, get to show off their muscle cars. By braking while revving their engines, they make the rear wheels spin, tinting the air with the smell of smoldering rubber.
At a drag strip, drivers do it to warm up their tires so the rubber becomes tacky, the better to grip the strip's surface when the light turns green.
What the crowd in Selmer expected on the evening of June 16 was revving engines and squealing tires. This was the spectacle the Cars for Kids burnout had offered in previous years.
Critchley, a lean Australian who has lived in the United States since the late 1990s, and another pro driver were to be the showstoppers of the finale.
At the starting line, the Aussie reacted to the "go" signal. Almost immediately it became obvious something had gone awry.
For whatever reason — simple human error, mechanical malfunction, or a misguided decision to push the limits, that remains to be determined by authorities — the souped-up 1993 Corvette became a rocket on wheels.
First, there was the howl of the supercharged engine.
Then a collective cry of terror as the car veered off-center.
Then bedlam.
The tragedy unfolded in 4.84 seconds.
Some saw the car coming and got out of the way.
Some were spared death or injury by sheer luck.
But others never had a chance.
Watch for the hands
As the time approached six o'clock on June 16, another successful Cars for Kids event was nearing the finale.
Founder, president and event organizer Larry Price stood at the end of the burnout section to give the signal, a wave of his hands, for drivers to power down.
Price said he told Critchley: "I wave my hands and you're out."
Eyewitnesses said Price did wave his hands, but The Jackhammer shot past him, trailing white smoke.
According to a statement from Critchley's racing team, the driver "did everything humanly possible to keep the car on the road, but unfortunately, there was nothing he could do."
By the time the barrel-chested Price turned around to follow the car's path, the high-performance vehicle veered to the left, into the crowd.
Sonic was gathering spot
Teenagers and twenty-somethings especially liked the burnouts. They clustered in groups all along the street, but the Sonic was a popular gathering spot because it offered an unobstructed view. Plus, if you got hungry, you just placed an order.
Aeriel Hickman, 15, was at the restaurant with two of her friends.
Sisters Raven and Nicole Griswell, 15 and 18, respectively, were there with Nicole's fiance, Christopher Mettlen, 19. The engaged couple had not yet settled on a marriage date.
Sean Driskill, 22, who stocked shelves at the Wal-Mart Supercenter at the south end of town, watched the show with his wife, Amy, 19.
Kimberly Barfield, 17, and Selina Kennedy, 16, were Sonic employees. They hustled out the drive-in's fare — burgers and fries, shakes and cherry limeades — to customers. At 6 p.m. they stood near the street talking with friends.
There were dozens of others in this drive-in tableau: Teenagers gabbing on their cell phones, young adults talking.
Brooke Pope, 20, home for the summer from Blue Mountain College, was in the crowd, flashing that toothy smile of hers.
Scarlett Replogle, 15, remembered as pretty and polite, chatted with friends.
Shane Smith, 19, stood near the street with his father, Michael Smith, 43, and his stepbrother, 20, also named Michael, but known as Mikey in the family.
For Shane, it was his first day in Selmer. He was moving there to live with his father and stepmother, Teresa Smith. Teresa was there, too, with her sister and daughter, though not alongside the street. Teresa's sister had had an ankle injury, and right before the burnouts were to begin the three ladies were resting on a bench about 40 feet away.
Rodger Pitchford, 18, stood as close to the street as he could, eagerly taking in the parade of souped-up cars.
STORY CONTINUES IN SECOND POST